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At Fancy's call, who rear the wanton fail,
This Praife, immortal POPE, to thee be giv'n: Thy Genius was indeed a Gift from Heav'n. Hail, Bard unequal'd, in whose deathless line Reason and Wit, with strength collected shine; 500 Where matchless Wit but wins the second praise, Loft, nobly loft, in Truth's fuperior blaze,
Did FRIENDSHIP e'er miflead thy wand'ring Mufe?
That Friendship fure may plead the great excuse: That facred Friendship which infpir'd thy Song, Fair in defect, and amiably wrong. 506
Error like this ev'n Truth can scarce reprove; "Tis almost Virtue when it flows from Love.
Ye deathless Names, ye Sons of endless praise, By Virtue crown'd with never-fading bays! 510 Say, shall an artless Muse, if you inspire, Light her pale lamp at your immortal fire? Or if, O WARBURTON, infpir'd by You, The daring Muse a nobler path pursue, By You infpir'd, on trembling pinion foar, 515 The facred founts of focial blefs explore,
In her bold numbers chain the Tyrant's rage,
And bid her Country's Glory fire her page:
To court no Friend, nor own a Foe but thine.
If her apoftate heart fhould e'er incline